What Goes Around
by OverlyDramatic
Summary: A little pre-Hostage Clois drabble. Spoilers for the guest star.


I don't remotely expect this to happen, which I guess is why I wrote it. Not remotely original, but after that shower shot in the trailer, it just wouldn't let me be. So here it is!

**Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine.**

*****

Lois nudged open the bathroom door, ears perking as the dull pounding of water sharpened without the muffling wooden obstruction.

"No cause for alarm, Smallville," she called as she inched into the bathroom. She couldn't help glancing at the shower curtain, and a small, pleased smile inched across her lips when she saw his shadow start. "Just grabbing my toothbrush," she explained lightly.

Clark didn't speak, but she heard the sloshing of soapy water cease. Fixated by the hollow rhythm of water across his skin, Lois strode the few short steps to the sink. This was a terrible idea to begin with, and if she didn't make it quick, something terrible was bound to happen. But it wasn't exactly her fault Smallville had slipped into the bathroom before she could grab her toothbrush.

"You know," his voice stopped her in her tracks. The words were hesitant, teasing, and a little determined, and her heart constricted at the rush of emotion she suddenly felt for this man. "You could always," he paused, faltering a bit before finishing, "Join me."

Lois's breath stopped altogether as her mind went into overdrive.

Even now the water was thudding against him, slicking his dark hair and running rivulets down his body. The streams would surely catch on the round bulk of his muscles, diverting the flow into the crevices she longed to explore, past the hard flatness of his abdomen, down his length and along his legs, right down to his very toes.

She could start there and work up, against the flow of the water, letting the wetness soak her clothes until he decided they were superfluous and stripped her of them. Then the fun would really begin.

_No, Lois_, she denied herself the fantasy, fixing herself back in the world of rational thinking.

It was unexpected for him to offer, but he'd done it in such a Clark way that she wondered why she hadn't imagined this before. In nights to come, she was sure it would be wreaking all sorts of pleasant havoc on her dreams.

"As tempting as that offer is, Smallville," her voice went hoarse on his name, and she blinked, swallowing down the image of the man behind the curtain. She forced a wry smile, hoping it would affect her voice, "You're mom's due to roll through town in T minus 30 minutes. I don't think now's the best time to take our relationship to the next level."

She turned on her heel, snatching for her toothbrush so she could make a quick escape. Her hand caught nothing but air, and she glanced at the sink, confused by the empty spot on the porcelain.

"Um, Smallville?" she wondered, cocking her head and frowning. "Where's my toothbrush?"

He didn't reply right away, and Lois turned toward the shower and raised one eyebrow.

"In the cabinet," he responded, almost in response to the expression on Lois's face.

She rolled her eyes, popping open the cabinet and sifting through the shelves.

"I thought I left it on the sink," Lois muttered to herself. The she raised her voice to announce, "It's not there."

"Yes," Clark argued, "it is."

"No," Lois said definitively, scanning the shelves to make sure she hadn't missed it. "It's really not."

"I know it's there," Clark insisted. The curtain rustled as if he wanted to peek through, but then thought better of it.

"Well then obviously there's some part of the cabinet I'm missing," Lois quipped, "cause I'm not seeing it."

The sarcastic expression on her face vanished at the sound of plastic rings sliding across a metal bar. Lois whirled to face the sight of Clark Kent, dripping wet and towel-clad, stepping out of the shower. He moved toward the all but forgotten cabinet, reaching over her head for the top shelf.

The reality of his rippling, glistening arm was so much more impressive than the vivid fantasies she'd squelched not two minutes prior. She curled her fingers at her sides, ordering them to stay still despite her overwhelming urge to trace her fingers along the planes of his shoulders.

"It's too cold to give Shelby a bath in the barn," Clark explained, lowering the toothbrush into Lois's line of vision, "and I didn't want him to get your toothbrush."

"You could have put it on a lower shelf, Smallville," Lois complained at the sight of her long-searched for toothbrush in his oversized hand. "We're not all behemoths."

"Why are you looking for your toothbrush anyway?" Clark wondered, eyes bemused as he watched her snatch it from his grasp. "It's almost four."

Lois's eyes shifted nervously. She shoved the toothbrush into her back pocket and crossed her arms, studying a point on his left shoulder. He had great shoulders.

"Lois?" Clark ducked his head to catch her gaze, and her eyes rose to meet his.

"Okay, fine!" she caved, exasperated. "I'm getting rid of it so your mom doesn't get the wrong impression."

A warm grin lit Clark's features, and amusement seeped into his words, "And what impression would that be?"

"You know," Lois replied; the words were half a statement, half an insinuation. "That I . . ." she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder as she whispered, "_live here_."

Clark laughed. "You could, you know."

"Clark!" Lois broke out, appalled.

"Mom wouldn't care, Lois," Clark offered easily. Then the grin dropped, and he met her eyes. "And I wouldn't mind at all," he said, softly and seriously.

Lois's heart caught, and then raced to make up for its weakness. She wanted _so badly_ to say yes.

"This isn't the best conversation to be having right now," she evaded, motioning to their close proximity and the low-slung towel at his waist. A drop of water caught her eye, and she watched, mesmerized, as it caught on the trail of hair under his belly button before following the path and disappearing into his towel.

_Focus, Lois_, she commanded, forcing her eyes painstakingly past rock hard abs, a sinful chest, well-rounded shoulders and a beautifully angled jaw until she met his sparkling blue gaze.

"When would be better?" Clark asked, still watching her intently.

Lois swallowed, wondering why he couldn't take the hint. It wasn't that she didn't want to move in. Honestly, she wanted nothing more. Living at The Talon was getting a little uncomfortable, with Chloe always gone or leaving, and Lois was sick of wishing she had someone to share take-out with.

But she knew the second she plopped her stuff into the farm guest room, she would forever affix Clark's picture next to the definition of 'home' in her head. And she just wasn't ready to take that leap.

"I don't know," she evaded, tone teasing, "maybe sometime after you've put a shirt on."

Clark raised an eyebrow, well aware of what she was doing.

"Okay," he said simply, moving past her and to the door.

"Wait, wait," Lois caught his arm, and the wet warmth of his bicep shot straight through her lower stomach. She resolutely ignored it. "Finish your shower, Smallville," she ordered. Her eyes drifted to the dripping, haphazard locks of his dark hair. Dropping his arm, she grinned and flicked soap scum from his ear. "Obviously, there's still some work to be done."

Clark swallowed, and Lois realized with a start how her words could have been taken. Her cheeks flamed, and she wondered if she should try to make it better, or just dart for the door.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Clark raised one deliberate hand to his ear, raked a finger through the slime, and brought his hand down so he could clearly see the leftover shampoo.

"Guess you're right," he grinned, motioning her toward the door.

Lois felt a swell of affection for his antics, letting her save face. She backed toward the exit, responding to his easy, heartfelt smile with one of her own. She groped for the handle, unwilling to move her eyes. Then, at once, she twisted the door open and turned to step through.

"Lois!" happy surprise lit Martha Kent's face, and panic flared through Lois's body. She quickly pulled the door inward, sticking herself in the frame.

"Mrs. K!" Lois nearly squeaked, horror filling her eyes. Martha kept smiling, pleased to see the woman she viewed as a daughter, totally unaware of the fact that that same woman was hiding her mostly-naked son behind the bathroom door.

"Uh . . ." _Pull yourself together, Lane!_ Lois commanded herself, pasting on a fake smile, "How was your flight?"

Mrs. Kent looked at her in confusion, but Lois just couldn't pull herself away from the door to give her a hug. She might catch a glimpse of the scene behind her, and Lois just couldn't handle the woman she respected most in the world losing all respect for her.

"It was fine," Martha recovered, shooting Lois another gracious smile. Lois's fingers tightened on the edge of the door. "It got in a little early, so I thought I'd surprise Clark."

Lois's heart jumped, a simultaneous reaction to the sound of his name and the feeling of the door slipping from her grasp. She did her best to keep hold of the wood, but without turning around and all-out wrestling it shut, there was really nothing to be done.

So she slid her eyes closed, mortified, as the warm solidity of Clark's still-wet body hovered closer to her back.

"Mom! How was your flight?" Clark asked, completely ignoring both the redness flooding Lois's entire body and the shocked expression she was sure adorned Mrs. Kent's face.

"Hi, honey," came the warm response. Lois registered the lack of horror, rebuke, or even embarrassment with a hint of suspicion. She had a feeling that as soon as she opened her eyes, Martha Kent would banish her from the house. Still, she couldn't fight the curiosity.

She cracked her eyes open, and Mrs. Kent was smiling just as amiably as she had been three minutes prior.

"I'm so glad to see you both," came her sincere words, and she reached out a hand to pat Lois's shoulder.

Lois had the distinct impression—compounded by Clark's shaking weight and not-quite-muffled laughter—that she was being placated.

"Mom, let me help you with that," Clark offered, and Lois noticed the bags at Martha's feet.

Lois had another moment of panic as Clark started to move forward. On the off chance that Mrs. K hadn't noticed his state of undress, there'd be no hiding it now.

"I can do it," Lois interjected, subtly trying to force Clark back into the bathroom with her shoulder. Even through the fabric of her shirt, she could feel the lack of fabric across his chest.

"Don't be silly," Mrs. Kent dismissed, picking up the smallest of the three bags. "Clark can do it, sweetie."

And before Lois could protest again, Clark had slipped past her to grab the two bags at his mom's feet. It wasn't until he bent down that Lois noticed he'd slipped on a pair of jeans during her awkward meeting with his mother. She didn't know if she was more relieved or disappointed.

_Gonna have to go with relieved on that one_, she told herself, watching her boyfriend follow his mother down the hall.

"Lois slept in the guest room last night," he said apologetically, as Martha opened the door to her old bedroom, "So I'll have to change the sheets."

Clark caught her eye over his shoulder, and finally, Lois felt some measure of relief. Clark might not flat out say, "Don't worry, Mom, Lois hasn't had her way with me," but he would never allow anyone to think negatively of her. In true gentlemanly fashion, he would correct whatever impression Mrs. Kent had gotten about the situation.

Feeling infinitely better, Lois turned back to shut the door. The movement made her aware of the toothbrush pressing into her back pocket, and she tugged it free of the material of her jeans.

Pushing once more into the small bathroom, Lois stopped in front of the tiny trashcan beside the sink. It was nearly empty; just a few bits of floss and an empty toothpaste box filled the small receptacle. It would be so easy to just drop it in, cover it with toilet paper so Mrs. Kent wouldn't find it, and slip back out the door.

She glanced back up at the cabinet, still hanging wide. It was nearly empty too. Clark only had his toothbrush, razor and floss spread across three shelves.

Her fingers twitched as her eyes darted between the nearly empty containers. Making a split second decision, she tossed her toothbrush into the garbage. She smiled down at it, sitting stark and white against the bottom of the metal bin. Then she left the bathroom, feeling ten times lighter.

As she forced her feet toward the guest room, she pictured the open medicine cabinet and Clark's lonely toothbrush.

Pretty soon her real toothbrush would be right there, and the cabinet wouldn't close for all the hygiene products she'd stuff into it.

******

Let me know what you think!


End file.
